Tricks and Treats
by chrysalis escapist
Summary: never a good day when Gerrard comes to the lab ... but on some days it's bad for him. Mac/Stella, Flack/Angell, Adam/Kendall, Sid, Danny. One-shot


**Disclaimer: would be cool if I did but no, I don't own them. Don't own any money to bribe TPTB with either.**

**Thanks to **_**Lost in New York**_** for the inspiration ;).**

Gerrard steps off the elevator and into the CSI lab. He almost bumps into something furry standing to the right.

"Hoh! Watch where you're going!" He looks a little closer and identifies what he sees. "Adam Ross, the lab rat. What a creative costume – and so scary." Gerrard grins sarcastically.

He makes a motion as if he's going to pull the lab tech by his whiskers. Adam instinctively replies by baring his left canine.

Gerrard takes a step back. "Ooh, do I have to be worried that you are rabid?"

_No, but I will bring you the plague__!_ Adam brushes past the inspector and trots off into the lab's labyrinth.

-o-

Gerrard stacks a couple of boxes with files he wants to take a closer look at. Just making sure things are being done right.

"Can I give you a hand with that?" comes an affable voice from behind him.

"That would be very kind of you!" he says, before his brain can tell him that it doesn't really like the sound of that offer.

Much less he likes the sound of what he hears now, like … a slurp, or something, like … pulling chicken wings apart. And he has a hand lying on top of the boxes, complete with blood, joints, ligaments and all.

"There you go!" the voice continues in its jovial tone.

He can't help staring at the hand, misses even to look up and find out who's just played that trick on him. Kendall has already walked off, rubbing her hands triumphantly.

-o-

Adam makes his way down a corridor with a bag clutched in his arms. Stops face to face with a certain badge. _Uh-oh._ He swallows quietly.

"Well, well. What do we have here? A bag of sweets. I will have to confiscate them." the owner of the badge says.

"No way." Adam holds the bag tighter, one of his eyebrows going up.

"Oh yes, see here …" Flack says, producing a sheet of paper and flapping it open – a court order stating that all sweets have to be handed over to Detective Don Flack jr..

Adam eyes it, looks at his bag, looks at Flack. He has to admit that the idea warrants a treat. And he has means of procuring more. He opens the bag for Flack, but not too wide.

"Don't take them all. Or do you intend to dress up as the cookie monster?" someone else says.

Flack turns around at the sound of Angell's voice, and his jaw almost makes contact with the floor when he sees her.

"Are you okay?" she asks with a smile spread over her face. In a dazzling black dress with long sleeves like wings.

"Uh, eh … kind of not. Guess I just died and went to heaven." He blinks; tries again to take in her appearance, and not sweat like a schoolboy.

The corner of her mouth lifts further up. "Good, so my angel-of-death outfit does work. Old grumpy back there," she points over her shoulder in a direction in which he automatically assumes Gerrard, "didn't believe me."

-o-

Gerrard continues his patrol of the lab. Comes past a door that swings open, a man stepping through.

"AH!" Gerrard shrieks at the sight.

"What?" Sid asks graciously, "I didn't scare you, did I? Surely not, I haven't even had time to put on my costume yet." He spreads bloodied arms in an apologetic manner, causes Gerrard's face to contort.

"Oh Sid," Danny joins in, "you made him drop something."

"Really? Sorry about that." Sid scans the floor around Gerrard's feet. "What?"

"His dignity." Danny whispers, quite audibly, from the corner of his mouth. "Say, Sid?" he continues, louder yet, bending over the ME's arm, "Is that a bit of intestine you've got there?"

Sid takes a look at the spot Danny indicates as they hear footsteps hasten away.

-o-

Stella walks by Mac's office and casts her habitual glance inside. He's …

_wonk_

She's forgotten to look ahead again. Mac is …

She pushes herself back away from the open door, rubbing her temple that had connected with the glass. She does a series of quick blinks to make sure she really sees that bullet hole in his chest.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to worry you." His cool hand is on her bruise, easing its throbbing. But increasing that of her heart.

"It's okay. I was just so surprised. I must admit … I didn't think you'd dress up." Her voice sparkles.

"Adam made it for me. I thought I should at least try it." He looks down at himself. "He's a man of many talents. It looks pretty real, doesn't it? And …"

He's interrupted by Gerrard approaching them, shaking his head. "Even you as the heads of the lab concede to that childish custom."

Gerrard looks Stella up and down who is dressed in silky waves of white cloth and has a pair of scissors on her belt. "And what are you anyway? An incapable dressmaker? What's scary about that, other than the thought that I might have to wear one of your designs?"

She fires him a glare that does frighten him and sends the idea into his head that her curls might be snakes. He avoids her gorgon stare by turning to Mac.

"Mac Taylor," he prods his finger at Mac's chest, "I would never have thought that of you."

Mac looks at him quietly and takes a large sip from the coffee cup he's been holding in his hand. And a moment later coffee comes squirting from the bullet wound, right onto Gerrard's shirt.

Gerrard puffs once, twice, but his head still turns a glowing red and he steams off.

"Was that really coffee?" Stella asks after she's caught her breath again.

"Of course not. I wouldn't waste coffee on him." Mac smirks, "but as far as I know it won't wash out any easier."

He lets Stella study the whole of Adam's device, the 'wound' attached to a squeezable pouch in his pocket, filled with a dark brown liquid.

"Serves him right, I heard he's been nagging all day again. An incapable dressmaker …" she snorts, "he's probably just jealous because he doesn't need to dress up to be horrifying."

Mac takes a closer look at her dress. Incapable? Certainly not. Every fold of the white material is perfectly placed to accentuate her beauty. Like a Greek goddess.

"Atropos." he states, "The one of the three fates who cuts the thread of life."

She nods. "And since you are 'dead'," she points at the bullet wound, "I'm afraid you will have to come with me now."

He smiles. "With you I'd go anywhere."

Smiling back she takes his arm and they walk away.

* * *

Thank you for taking the time to read. I hope you enjoyed it. Please don't hesitate to let me know what you think. All comments are welcome any time, and all logged reviews replied to.


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